Chapter 35
If Jax planned on starting a life with Ruby in Melbourne, a fulfilling life filled with love and laughter, he had to confront his demons first.
The only reason why he'd gone through the humiliating process of signing in and leaving his belongings with a guard so he could see his father.
He still didn't know what he hoped to achieve by coming here, beyond confronting his past and ensuring it wasn't as scary as he'd built it up to be.
Not scary in a fearful sense. Scary in a way he might have an ounce of his father in him.
When he saw Ruby again, he wanted to do it with a light heart, with his intentions clear.
To do that, he needed to confront Denver first.
Jax sat on a cold plastic chair, his gaze fixed on the metal door behind the perspex separating the prisoners from the public.
He wanted to see his father's expression the moment he set sight on him for the first time in ten years, for no other reason than to see if Denver recognised the son he never contacted.
Apparently, Denver had been in constant contact with the media—but never him.
It irked as much as being here.
How many times had he faced jibes and taunts from so-called mates about his jailbird dad?
How many job interviews had been politely terminated once they learned of his father's talent for embezzling?
How many times had he stormed around his apartment, impotent with rage, that for every inroad he made in the corporate world he had his limited success ripped away by the simple fact he was Denver Maroney's son?
Countless, humiliating burrs that stuck, spurring him on to greater heights in Western Australia.
Now he’d returned to Melbourne to stay, if Ruby would have him. And that meant ensuring his dad's tarnished reputation couldn't touch him again.
The door opened and Jax’s fingers curled into fists as his father entered the room behind the perspex, shoulders back, head held high, gaze challenging and cocky. If it weren't for the shackles binding his wrists, Jax could've sworn his dad hadn't aged a day.
Denver sat opposite and picked up the phone they needed to communicate with. Jax did the same, waiting for a word, one word that his dad cared for anybody but himself.
An apology? The least Denver could do.
An explanation? Damn right.
"Well, well, the prodigal son returns."
Struck dumb with disbelief, Jax shook his head.
After all this time, his dad greeted him with a cliche?
"Took you long enough to visit." Denver smirked. "Or is this because I'm getting out soon and you want to get in good with the old man again?"
Jax couldn't think of one person in this world he totally despised but in that moment, he came close.
Acid churned in his gut and he waited for the cramping to subside before speaking.
"Why?"
One word asking a myriad questions.
Why did you steal that money?
Why did you use Jackie?
Why did you screw over your friends?
Why did you ignore your son who stood by you through everything: the trial, the sentencing, the first day in jail?
So many questions, but Jax’s chances of answers ranked up there with getting an apology from his dad: a big fat zero.
Denver frowned, his smug smile gone. "Why what?"
Needing to make this one question count, Jax gripped the phone tight and leaned forward until his nose almost touched the perspex.
"Why did you burn the one person who remained by your side through everything?" His vocal cords seized with long-festering bitterness and he cleared his throat. "I stood by you, Dad, and once you were in here I ceased to exist for you."
He jabbed a finger in Denver’s direction, wishing he could thump the perspex with his fist. "I want to know why," he said into the phone. "It's the least you owe me."
He expected Denver to walk away. His dad was good at that.
Instead, the arrogance in his father’s eyes dimmed, replaced by glassy resignation.
Only then did Jax notice the changes time had wrought: the wrinkles creasing his dad’s neck, the lines fanning out from his mouth and eyes, and what looked like a permanent groove between his brows.
Denver had done more frowning than smiling in jail.
To his dad's credit he didn't walk away. Or look away. He eyeballed Jaxwith a perturbing mix of affection and regret.
Static crackled down the phone, the silence unnerving. Jax had been a fool to come here. If his father hadn't contacted him in ten years, no way in hell he'd get answers now.
He moved to hang up the phone when Denver's lips finally moved.
"You were going places, and the only place I was going was here. I didn't want you tainted by what I'd done."
Jax released the breath he'd been holding. "That's bullshit. If you'd really felt like that, you wouldn't have done half the things you did anyway."
Jax shook his head, ten years' worth of resentment threatening to spew forth. "You used Mum just like you used your friends, and you sure as hell didn't give a shit about me. You did what you wanted to do and screw everyone else."
Denver didn't look away and a small part of Jax admired him for it.
"That's the thing about jail. Not much on offer in the way of recreation, gives a man a lot of time to think.
" Denver rubbed his chin. "I've been doing a lot of thinking over the years, Son, and there's nothing I can say or do to change the past. I did bad things.
I hurt a lot of people, including the ones I loved.
Am I sorry? Hell, yeah. Do I have regrets?
I live with them every day. Do I wish my life was different? You bet."
Denver paused. "I wanted to reach out to you every day for the last ten years but I couldn't. It wouldn't be fair. Not after all you'd done for me."
Jax couldn't speak if he wanted to. Words clogged his throat: words of recrimination, words of disbelief.
His dad had always been a master at spinning a yarn; that much hadn't changed.
"The first six months in here were dire.
I'm ashamed to say I didn't think life was worth living and I tried to make that happen.
I failed, just like I'd failed at everything my whole life.” Denver shook his head.
“Then your mother came to visit, said you'd inherited the mine, how my incarceration had affected your business opportunities in Melbourne and I made my decision. "
He made a slicing action across his neck. "To sever all ties with you, for your own good. I'd dragged you down enough. You didn't need me and I didn't need you."
Denver clamped his lips shut as if he'd said too much before shaking his head.
"Dad—"
"But I lied about that too. Because I needed you. I've always needed you, Son. You're the one good thing in my life."
Jax ignored the surge of hope slashing through the years of built-up antipathy. Denver had always been glib, his gift of the gab legendary. This had to be a spin, more of the same.
"What about Mum?"
Regret shadowed Denver's eyes. "I told her to run and never look back. I'd wrecked her life enough. She deserved better than me."
Stunned at Denver's revelations, he stared at his dad demonstrating true emotion, something he didn't think him capable of.
If the old man could do it, why couldn't he? He'd spent too many years suppressing emotion, feeding his bitterness when in reality he'd been imprisoned by his own demons just like his dad.
His love for Ruby was real, an emotion that ran deep and pure and true.
Ironic, he'd been afraid of being like his dad, an emotional cripple devoid of truly connecting with anyone bar his narcissistic self.
But hearing his dad's confession, realising Denver cared—enough to sacrifice contact that would've sustained him through the term of his incarceration-showed him the Maroney men were capable of feeling after all.
"Why did you come here, Jax?"
He pondered his answer carefully, not quite ready to forgive the sins of the past just yet.
"Ten years is a long time, Dad. Times change. Hopefully people can too."
Wise to his implication, Denver nodded. "I have no idea when the appeal is or the probable outcome, but know this. When I get out, I'm starting afresh, and hoping to make amends."
A start. As long as Denver's fresh start didn't include dragging his name through hell again. Last thing Jax needed when he was finally on top was his dad's reputation ruining all he'd achieved.
"I'm heading bush. Finding the quietest country town I can, changing my name, living the quiet life. If I'm exceptionally lucky, your mother won't have moved on, she'll find her way back to me, and I'll finally make an honest woman out of her."
Jax didn't believe in fairytales or happily ever afters. And with the number of lies Denver had told to his closest friends before ripping them off, Jax had a hard time believing him now. But for his dad's sake, he hoped he stayed true to his goals.
"Good luck, Dad."
Denver's hand shook as he replaced the receiver before snatching it back at the last moment. "I'm going to stay out of your way, son, I promise."
Jax had had enough of his dad's empty promises in the past, but considering what he'd learned today, he was in a charitable mood.
"We'll see what happens when you get out and find that place in the country."
Denver nodded and hung up, signalling to the guard to take him back. Jax felt nothing but relief as his father walked away, his heavy heart considerably lighter than when he'd arrived.
Yeah, the Maroney men were capable of redemption.
He now had to make his wife believe it.